Frostblood (Frostblood Saga #1)(84)

I caught a glimpse of Arcus launching himself at Rasmus as my eyes closed against the pain, a dim thought of grief that Arcus couldn’t win flitting through my mind. With the throne behind him, Rasmus was far too powerful. Sud, let it be over. Please, just let it be done. I would go to the afterworld in the sky and be with my mother. I would be warm. I would be free.

But one thought, Marella’s words, suddenly came back to me. The only way to destroy the throne was to become one with it, to let the Minax merge with me. The throne of Fors was made to repel and weaken Firebloods. Right now I was all fire. But if I let in the darkness, which already moved freely from the throne to the ice connected to it, I could slip past the throne’s defenses and destroy it from within.

Come, darkness, I thought.

Hissing filled my ears and dark tendrils snaked into my fingertips, up my arms, and over my face. There was a sensation of pressure. My ears popped and I gasped a mouthful of air, unable even to writhe against the strange feeling because of the ice holding me. Then the feelings settled and eased, my body growing accustomed to its new occupant. With a sense of triumph, I realized my heat was my own again, roaring into my chest and through my limbs in a glorious, hot surge. My mind was lifted free of all worry, my thoughts growing simpler, more elemental, with a sharp, soaring joy.

“You and I are one,” a ringing voice said, only now it came from within. “Free me, and then we will search for my brother in the fire throne, so that we may achieve the destiny our father laid before us. Daughter of Darkness, be ready for that day. It comes soon.”

The room had been leached of color, the icy blues now gray, the shafts of sunlight from the window pure white. I looked at my fingertips and saw a haze of onyx smoke curling from them.

Arcus and Rasmus struggled a few feet away, and though Arcus’s arms bunched with the effort of holding his brother off, his knees buckled as Rasmus’s hands squeezed his throat. I watched them with detached interest, trying to remember what I had wanted so badly only moments before. I tried to move and found that I was still encased in ice.

Break this ice, I thought, and the ice exploded into half-melted shards, glistening like white gems as they filled the air and skidded across the floor.

Hadn’t I been part of the king only moments ago, my darkness inside him? He was my ally.

“My king,” I said, and my voice was tinged with the sound of chiming bells, haunting and resonant. I sent a whirlwind of heated air at Arcus, and he was thrown several feet away, sliding across the floor in a screech of armor on stone.

I walked slowly to Rasmus, and he watched me intently with eyes that were no longer as black, but showing a wider rim of dark blue. He took a shuddering breath. “You merged with the Minax.”

“We are one,” I answered with my strange new voice.

He reached out slowly, put his hand to the back of my neck, and pulled me forward, his lips meeting mine. He gasped when they met.

“Your skin burns,” he said. But his lips returned to mine and I pressed myself against him, returning his kiss.

“Ruby!” said Arcus, my name the very sound of shock and betrayal.

“She chose, brother,” Rasmus replied, smoothing a lock of hair from my cheek. “She chose power.”

“I am power,” I corrected, pointing to the throne.

Not a scrap of shadow marred it now. The Minax had left the throne and was in me, and was me, and I was it, and I would never give up this incredible power. But some part of the Minax was still linked with Rasmus. He still held some of my shadow energy, and I wouldn’t share this. I wanted it all.

“Leave the king,” I told the Minax, and a ropelike cord of shadow swirled from him and into me. Rasmus doubled over, putting his hands to his knees for support.

“Don’t take it all, my sweet,” said Rasmus shakily. “We need to share it.”

I hesitated. I didn’t want to give up even a shred of this feeling. The Minax spoke in my head. “You have freed me. You needn’t share our power long. Give him only enough to kill the brother, and we will feed on their grief and hatred and leave this place strong.”

I nodded, then touched Rasmus’s cheek and poured darkness back into him.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“Kill him,” I commanded.

Rasmus drew his hands back and snapped them forward, hitting Arcus with a massive blast of frost. Arcus turned to take the blow on his shoulder, raising one hand to punch out his own onslaught.

“Need more,” Rasmus whispered, and I touched him again, giving him my dark energy.

As some of the darkness left me, the world gained color and I looked at Arcus with new eyes.

“You’re hurting him,” I said, expressionless. The Minax had said this would make me stronger, but I felt a vague sense of discomfort that even the oblivion couldn’t touch.

“Yes,” Rasmus gritted, “if only he would die faster.” His muscles coiled as he slammed out blow after blow of sharpened ice. The room filled with an echoing howl as it cut into the tender skin of Arcus’s neck, who used one hand to staunch the blood as he fought with the other.

I continued to watch until a gash formed on Arcus’s hand, making him cry out and curl up to take the blows against his back.

“Something is wrong,” I said, putting my hand around Rasmus’s wrist and pulling his arm down. His frost swirled against the floor and ceased. “I don’t want him to die.”